Prof. M.D. Mehmet Zafer Berkman

My 82-year-old mother, Ayşe, developed sudden confusion and weakness. At Acıbadem Maslak, Dr. Berkman discovered a chronic subdural hematoma—a 'water bag' of old blood pressing on her brain. He explained that her blood thinners made it tricky. Instead of immediate major surgery, he performed a minimally invasive burr hole drainage under local anesthesia. She was chatting with us that evening. His approach for elderly patients is truly thoughtful; he weighs risks like a master strategist. We call him 'the brain whisperer.'

Our 7-year-old son, Deniz, had worsening coordination and headaches. Multiple doctors dismissed it. Dr. Berkman spent an hour just observing him play. He ordered a specific MRI sequence others hadn't, revealing a benign but sizable cerebellar pilocytic astrocytoma. The way he spoke to Deniz—calling the tumor a 'misbehaving star' and surgery a 'space mission'—calmed us all. The resection was flawless via a tiny incision. At follow-up, Deniz brought him a drawing of 'Dr. Zafer's Brain Rocket.' This wasn't just surgery; it was pediatric neurosurgical artistry.

I'm a 45-year-old long-distance runner. During a marathon, I collapsed with a thunderclap headache. Rushed to Acıbadem Maslak, scans showed an anterior communicating artery aneurysm that had leaked. Dr. Berkman was on call. In the angio suite, he explained coiling versus clipping with crisp urgency, choosing endovascular coiling based on my anatomy. The procedure felt like he was navigating a submarine through my vessels. I was discharged in 72 hours. His emergency protocol is militaristically precise, yet he made my terrified wife feel like the only person in the world.

For years, I had debilitating trigeminal neuralgia—electric shock facial pain. Medications turned me into a zombie. Dr. Berkman proposed a Microvascular Decompression, not as a last resort, but as a definitive cure. He showed me 3D models of my cranial nerves and the offending artery loop. The surgery felt like rewiring a grand piano's intricate strings. I woke up pain-free. At my one-year follow-up, I brought him a box of the hardest pistachios I could find—just to prove I could crack them without flinching. He laughed. A routine checkup that felt like a victory lap.